


Touch.

by BubblegumCannibal



Series: Sins of the Stars [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, i should get back into that. lmao, remember when people used to tag smut as lemons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7672273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumCannibal/pseuds/BubblegumCannibal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me~ I want to feel dirty~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch.

**Author's Note:**

> 2 am me said "write smut" so i did.  
> 9 pm me wants to know if this was a good idea to post. too late now. <3

Jesse McCree came for a show, didn’t think he’d become the main event.

Hanzo is a mess of silent noises and rocking hips as he melts into his own touch. Wrapped into the orange ratted mess of the Cowboy’s serape, he’s lost within the harsh smell of cederwood and iron, ignoring the random stains here and there that may well have been blood or heavens-knows-what. It’s better here, pressed firmly against his nose without a care in the world.

If Ol’ Jesse McCree was honestly worried about the gaudy thing, he would have taken it with him. Alas, here is sits, tangled and wrapped around broad shoulders as he hums into the old fabric, his body demanding release—how interesting that it’s just the smell  of him that rolls a chill down Hanzo’s spine. The smell of him has his hips rocking and begging for more than just a touch of two fingers deep within his ass, curling and sliding back and forth in a languid motion to tease out that moment of satisfaction.

For what it was worth, at least the sharpshooter was enjoying the show with a shit-eating grin. And with that same grin, he holds no hesitance, (aside from the closing of his water bottle to sit off to the side) to slip between trembling thighs and grip strong hips. Jesse adores that control and possessiveness that Hanzo seems to pull every so often, but now? No. Not this evening. He’d rather see the archer wrecked and fallen.

Saliva slicks his hand and that hand slides down the flesh of his own hardening cock bringing a hitch in his breath as he pulls out with a shaky hiss, “Move your hand, darlin’.”

Gritting his teeth, steel hues look up from the serape, but he does not obey. Instead, his hips rise and slips in another finger, pulling a growl of a moan from his throat. He’s got his own rhythm, no need to change it. Yet, with that thought, there’s a sting to his inner thigh once Jesse slaps it with the back of his hand.

“Said: _move your hand._ ”

Hanzo chuckles into his lover’s serape, “Make me. _Claim_ me.”

And the Dragon _yelps_ with a laugh as that cold, cybernetic grip snatches his thighs and yanks him towards him. Without word, they are one and he is _deep,_ leaving a hiccup stuck in Hanzo’s throat. Three fingers wasn’t enough to stretch him wide, but the shaky moan that comes from the hunching cowboy rumbles in Hanzo’s chest as he continues to hilt himself into his lover, hands pushing all of his weight down onto the shorter man in hopes to keep him still.

Shimada is so sinfully tight around him.

McCree leans lower, forehead pressed against the archer’s temple as he adjusts to the heat wrapped around his cock, body hot with beggared want just at the sight and sounds that slipped from his small lover. Though deep, his hips thrust agonizingly slower, but sharper than the motion Hanzo had with just his fingers.

This— _This_ is what Hanzo wanted. What he **_craved_** from a man he thought had long disappeared with the others. Thought he had left him to his own when in fact the man had been watching in silence, enjoying the sight of such a dominant man call out with pitiful noises.

“That’s it, darlin’. I love it when y’get so desperate. Didja miss me?”

Hanzo groaned and nudged him away, “Shut up and fuck me, Jesse.”

A harsh slap to Hanzo’s thigh drags another yelp, “Answer my question.” He slaps that spot once move, “Go on!”

“Will you strike me once more if I say no?”

“Just how y’like it, sweetheart.” Jesse leaned down with a chuckle, pressing scattered kisses at Hanzo’s throat, thrusts still just as slow as they were when he had entered. He grins at the sound of Hanzo’s humming at the bites and kisses pressed and pulled at the skin of his neck, worn just right to leave little red marks here and there.

“Faster,” he demanded, “no more of this.”

_“Please…?”_

**_“Jesse.”_ **

The cowboy pulls away from his archer nails clawing down (the best one hand could) Hanzo’s thigh as his hips snap back against his lover. Deeper, had his thrusts become, filling his demanding dragon with breathless grinds in hopes that they banished anymore of those playfully angry commands.

Hanzo arched his back, a leg now within Jesse’s haphazard grip and fingers now clutching messy sheets while the sharpshooter slammed his way into him with rough, erratic, noisy thrusts. Even then, Jesse had to let him go, allowing that leg to fall only to feel light metal meet his hips once the archer pulls him closer.

His words waiver back and forth, slipping from English to Japanese and back again. McCree is sure he’s attempting to tell him _something._ Of what? He’s not sure, nor does he care. As long as Shimada comes and rests spent from pleasure, he’s fine. Alas he leans close to listen, not for Hanzo’s cursing within his native tongue, but for the choked moans that stutter him, impeding full lines of thought. It’s beautiful! Here he’s found joy back at Hanzo’s neck, tongue lapping at the salty beads of the man’s sweat and nose buried in damp smell of his scent. Jesse can’t help give a ghostly smile that disappears into his own myriad of growling moans.

Mm. Here—yes, _here!_ McCree’s now pushing his weight into Hanzo, feeling his partner clench around his cock as he fucks him harshly into the mattress. Hanzo writhed under his lover, fisting a good grip of his partner’s hair with a hiccup in his throat, “Jesse— hai!”

McCree groans into the yank of his boyfriend’s pull on his hair. Hanzo gave out a breathless cry, his body surging and legs shaking limply at the cowboy’s waist as white spills messily across his belly. Jesse smiles a wicked grin, hips still rolling lazily with a jolt sparking up his spine in dizzying waves.

Another kiss, lasting and sweet, “Perfect, darlin’. So perfect.”


End file.
